The Food Review

Being a celebrity, the lady in white is regularly invited on TV shows, book launches, openings of supermarkets, and other such grand events around town.

On one such occasion, she was invited to a popular TV show to review the creative culinary art of a famous international chef.

She arrived in her elegant white linen trousers teamed with a lacy shirt. The click of her stilettoes announced her entrance in the kitchen studio.

As he shook hands with her, the chef noticed her expensive white clothes and made a mental note to offer her an apron when she watched him cook.
"Today I am going to make a special dish for you" he said to the lady in white as he smiled at the camera.
"Oooo...I am so flattered" cooed the lady.
He offered her the red apron while saying to the camera that he did not want to ruin her wonderful whites. The lady found the red apron disgusting as it smelled of garlic and onions and vinegar, etc. She made a face (off camera) but said nothing.
"I call this dish 'White Delight' as it is inspired by you" said the chef as he looked at her adoringly.
He then assembled a dish made up of dried ginger, baked beetroots, raw cabbage and topped it with fried vanilla ice-cream.
He delicately arranged this creative masterpiece on a heart-shaped white dish with a dash of honey on the side and a generous sprinkle of sun-dried tomato sauce.
Then he proudly presented it to the lady in white.
She sniffed it reluctantly and said, "It smells as wonderful as it looks."
He urged her to taste it and handed her a spoon.
She hesitated at first and then picked up a squidgy-bit in the spoon and put it in her mouth.
Immediately, she made a face like a baby does when she tastes an orange for the first time.
Luckily for her, the camera was focussed on the chef who was explaining how this recipe was influenced by a variety of culinary traditions around the world.
"And, my dear," he said turning to her, "how do you like it?"
In the meanwhile, noticing that nobody was looking at her, the lady had surreptitiously chucked her mouthful of whatever-it-was into the bin strategically placed under the table.
Noticing the camera focussed on her, she clapped her hands and said,
"I have never tasted anything quite like this before. The subtle influence of the different flavours put together created a spectacular effect. You are a true genius!"

(Picture courtesy: Google images)

(The Lady in White is Anna's creation. If you are in the mood for humour, do look up the label on top for more such stories.)

An 'Indian' Indian

Suzie is stunningly beautiful.
With luscious black locks which fall down to her waist in waves, a golden face with sharp features, a brilliant smile and a gait that gives away her wealthy upbringing, she is a head-turner among all my friends here in Muscat.
When I met her for the first time, I asked her, "So which part of India are you from?"
"I don't know" she said impishly and waited for me to say something.
I, in turn,  waited for her to provide an explanation.
From her appearance, I had taken it for granted that she was from India. Anybody would.
Then she laughed and said, "Well, to be honest, I was not born in India. I am from South Africa. My ancestors from India had settled in South Africa years ago. So long ago that I do not know where they were from. In my bones I feel more South African than Indian."
"Have you ever been to India?"
"No, but I plan to do so soon. I just might bump into a rich great grand-uncle who has hidden away all his gold under a temple" she winked.
We were soon joined by Suzie's friends. It was her birthday.
After the customary hugs and kisses, she introduced me to them.
"Hi, meet my new friend - she is an Indian Indian."
...
Since that episode,  I have met many Malaysian Indians, Australian Indians, and even Indians from Trinidad and Tobago.
When they ask me where I am from, I join my hands in the 'Namaste' gesture and say,
"I am an Indian Indian".

(Picture courtesy: Google images featuring the Bollywood star Aishwarya Rai)

 

Remembering Radja

Our expat life is such that introductions and farewells happen regularly.

We celebrate these occasions with coffee mornings and promises to meet again. At school, the leaving children are given t-shirts on which their classmates have sketched hearts and written forget-me-not messages.

Many farewells happen during end of the school year. This year, too, the leaving children wore their t-shirts at the school assembly and we bid them goodbye as they went to other countries to begin their new adventures.

Radja, however, left us without saying a proper goodbye.

...

We first saw Radja when he was at pre-nursery with our daughter. His chubby round moon-like face and almond eyes were unlike any other.

“Hey, you are named after a King” we told him.

He rewarded us with a grin which showed his bunny teeth.

As the years passed, we saw him grow into a tall, handsome boy with a toothy smile. He was so much a part of our daughter’s childhood that he was like one of our own children. His coy mother always brought traditional Indonesian pandan cakes at our class coffee mornings and was an active volunteer at any activity at school. She had three sons at the school and she cared for them with selfless love that only a mother can give.

...

In the last week of July, Radja came to the class end-of-the-term beach class party with his mother. He had fun with the other children, and as the darkness gathered in the sky, we wished each other happy and safe holidays.

In his Indonesian hometown, Radja was admitted to the hospital for a serious illness. Although he had two surgeries, the doctors could not save him. He passed away in mid-September.

The sad news was broken to his classmates by the head teacher as gently as possible but their little hearts sagged with grief. For parents, it was even more difficult. We could not fathom the depth of the feelings of Radja’s parents and brothers. We consoled each other and wept in each other’s arms.

We hugged our own children tightly and chose to believe that Radja had gone to a beautiful place from where he did not want to return because it was paradise.

...

I met Radja’s mother the day after she arrived from Indonesia.

I realised how thin she had become as we embraced each other.

“His voice” she sobbed “is still in the house”. He used to pop into the kitchen and declare “Mummy, I love you!”

She remembers everything. She is surrounded by friends who constantly console her.

She manages to send me a smiley whenever I text her.

She is a brave girl.

May God give their family the strength to bear this loss.  Amen.

(In this casual class picture provided by the school last year, Radja is the boy in the blue t-shirt giving a confident pose for the camera. Front row, third from right.)